Page 63 of Before We Fell

A swarm of boys passed us, balloons tangled in little Oliver’s fist. Behind him, Maddox from our classroom lifted a Nerf Gun.

“Don’t shoot my balloons!” Oliver shouted.

“I’m getting them!”

I watched, laughing at the boys until Oliver tripped. His hands flew out and he got tangled in the balloon strings, and his entire body fell right onto the balloons, popping them.

Pop! Pop pop pop!

All of the kids screamed and ducked. I laughed, turned to Noah just as a familiar, haunting sound echoed in the air.

“Noooooo!!!!” I was right on Noah’s heels as he took off for Riley. She crouched down, slammed her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes closed. “Mommy! Daddy!”

Her pain-filled screams threw the rest of the yard into silence and I reached her just as Noah crouched in front of her.

“Hey Squirt,” he said, his hands went to her shoulder, but she shook him off.

“Don’t touch me! Go away, go away, go away!”

Oh God. Oh God, God, Oh God.

“Riley,” I called her name quietly, even though it was impossible to hear me over her screams.

But her eyes popped open and before I knew it, she threw her little body into mine at the same time hooking Noah around his neck with her arm. She pulled all of us together, and the cool grass hit my back as I lost my balance.

“No!”

“Hey,” Noah crooned softly. “It’s okay, Riley. It’s okay. Swear it, honey, it was just a balloon.”

I was too stunned to speak. Plus, her hair was all over my face. My arm was pinned at her back beneath Noah’s arm and his weight was next to us.

“Let’s get up, sweetie,” he said to her. “We’re smashing Miss Lauren.” I pushed off the ground as much as I could, but Riley was burrowing into me, clinging to my shoulder with one hand.

“It’s okay, Riley. We’re here sweetie. It was just a balloon.” I pressed my lips to the top of her head, held her tight until slowly, Noah was able to move her so I could brush her hair out of my face.

“Damn it,” he groaned and finally rolled up, taking Riley with him.

“I want Mommy,” Riley cried. And that sound. That sweet, sad, voice that sounded like she’d just clawed out her own throathurt.

“I know, Squirt,” Noah said. He shifted her into his lap, finally unclasping her from me and pressed her head to his chest. His eyes were wet, rimmed with shock and he didn’t blink or look away from me. “I miss your mommy, too. Every day I miss her.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and I shoved up to my knees, brushing off grass and the fear I’d felt at hearing her first scream.

“I’ll leave you alone,” I said quietly, moving to stand.

“No.” Noah grabbed my hand and held it tight. “She needs you too.”

“She doesn’t—”

“She just threw herself at you, Lauren. Stay. She’ll need you.”

I scanned the yard. It had gone too quiet. A bug made some chirping noise and breeze rustled the drying leaves but that was the only sound and to my surprise, the yard was empty.

A quick glance at the back of Brooke’s house showed her at the glass door. Watching us.

Dang. She was good. How had she managed to clear everyone out so quickly and how could I thank her for it?

“I don’t really give a shit what anyone sees right now,” Noah said, and his voice had tightened. Gone was his fear and it was replaced with something sinister. “Seriously. I don’t give a shit.”

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